


Sonata for Castiel

by centreoftheselights



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angelcest, Angelic True Forms, Angels, Backstory, Except kind of not, F/M, Implied Relationships, M/M, Pre-Series, Soulmates, The Fall - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-27
Updated: 2012-08-27
Packaged: 2017-11-13 00:18:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/497275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/centreoftheselights/pseuds/centreoftheselights
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A trio of variations on the theme of falling, from grace and in love. If anyone believed in destined soulmates, it would be the angels.</p>
<p>Castiel's pre-canon backstory in three scenes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sonata for Castiel

**Author's Note:**

> This story contains mentions of angelcest in the context of an angelic society where no-one considers it taboo or immoral. If you have a problem with that, don't read it.
> 
> Pairings involved:  
> Strawberry Cheesecake - Annabriel - Anna/Gabriel  
> Wincest 0.9 - Michifer - Michael/Lucifer  
> Completely Oblivious - Calthazar - Castiel/Balthazar

It was rare for the entire heavenly host to be called to assembly, but when they were, the Garden overflowed with joy. The air hummed with grace and contentment, and garrisons from all parts of Creation praised their Father’s works, sharing their memories of the universe through speech and light and song.

Castiel marvelled in it. He lingered as his sister traced the fluorescence of moonlight catching on a methane sea, as his brothers sang in counterpoint the sigh of a condensing nebula, and, most of all, as he encountered each of his siblings, be they novel or familiar. His family was large, but infinitely unique, and he wished to know them all.

“Castiel.”

Anael lets her light brush against his, a gentle reminder that she is near. Castiel does not need it. Even in his wonder, he had not forgotten the presence of his best-known, the sister who has answered his questions with infinite patience and taught him to dance on starlight.

He returns his attention to her, and she regards him with gentle amusement.

“There will be time for this later,” she tells him. “Follow me.”

She darts away in a burst of will, and Castiel shadows her through the air as they approach the heart of the heavens. The Garden is thicker here, and fewer angels fly, until Castiel can see no-one but Anael. She stops him with a silent touch, and it takes him a moment to understand why, but then he follows her attention and sees.

His first observation is the sheer brightness. The youngest of his siblings could shame a supernova, but this is far beyond anything he has previously witnessed. It draws his entire focus, and he stares into it wide-eyed, until his rapt attention begins to seek out detail.

They are entwined, coiled around one another in glittering loops of silver and gold. They shift constantly, each movement too fast for Castiel to follow, yet still carrying an aura of care and affection underneath raw power. This is Michael and Lucifer, the eldest and brightest of Castiel’s brothers, who bear both the gravest duties of heaven, and its fiercest bond.

Quiet words pass between them.

“...do what is ordered of us.”

“Didn’t you _see_ them?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“But –”

“Well, now. What do we have here?”

The last voice is new and unexpected, spoken quietly close behind Castiel. Before he can turn, he finds himself blown back and away from the two archangels by the powerful push of wings.

He comes to a halt, rights himself, seeks the source – and finds a towering pillar of bronze fire, too intense to be anyone but the third son of God, who has stood in His presence and spoken with His voice.

“Gabriel.”

Anael is a flat line of defiance, refusing to be impressed.

“Hey, Annie. Who’s the partner in crime?”

Castiel feels frozen in place by the weight of an archangel’s stare, but Anael, seemingly unaffected, offers him reassurance.

“He’s only teasing, Castiel.” She seems disapproving. “We didn’t break any rules.”

“No smiting today, kid,” Gabriel agrees. “Just want to give the big guys some time alone to talk.”

“What _were_ they talking about?” Anael asks.

“Hey, I’m not letting you in on the big surprise! Wait until the announcement like everyone else.”

“That’s not what I meant.” Anael seems to choose her next words carefully. “There was... tension between them.”

Castiel is surprised to find that he agrees with her assessment, and he too is curious of the reason. Michael and Lucifer share a true bond, fated together by divine plan. Conflict between them, however minor, is unexpected.

Gabriel hesitates. The phrase ‘trouble in paradise’ has not yet been invented, and neither angel present would find it comforting if it had, but nevertheless his manner implies that he wishes their question could be so flippantly dismissed.

“A tiny difference in opinion,” he says instead. “Nothing which should concern you.”

Castiel accepts the explanation, but Anael moves forward, so close that she brushes against Gabriel’s light. “It concerns _you_ , doesn’t it?”

With a gentle dismissal to Castiel – “beat it, kid” – Gabriel moves against Anael, drawing her closer to him to murmur his reply.

Castiel departs content. Anael is newly close to Gabriel, and the time they spend together brings her joy. Although recent and still tenuous, Castiel sincerely believes their relationship is fated as eternal.

He withdraws to a high vantage point, from which he can see much of the Garden. Anael and Gabriel are still visible, a bronze-red cloud which pulses with laughter. They are not the only bond on display, as Castiel’s siblings turn to their closest to await the announcement which has gathered them here together.

Yet many more are like him, separate. It is a wondrous knowledge that with him somewhere in the Garden is his own fated match – waiting, like he is, for the right time for their meeting.

“Brothers and sisters.”

The strength in that voice is unmistakable, and as Castiel turns his focus towards the source he is unsurprised to find Michael. But Lucifer is not in his usual place beside him. In fact, Castiel cannot see his light anywhere within the Garden – although he does not search long before surrendering his attention to Michael.

“My dear siblings, it is my honour to present to you the newest form of our Father’s Creation...”

A million graces burn with anticipation.

“Humanity.”

 

When Castiel next returns to the Garden, it is empty. No voices fill the air; no orders are relayed, no reconnaissance reported, no information passed along the chain of command. The echoes of distant battles have stilled. Castiel had thought he would never grow used to the screams of the wounded, but silence is an unfamiliar burden.

The war is over. The rebels have been cast out or destroyed, and Lucifer is imprisoned in the deepest bowels of Hell. The traitors they never suspected were in their midst have been vanquished.

There is no celebration. This is their Father’s will. All is as He wills it.

And He has willed much loss.

The righteous had become faithless. The honoured had been made corrupt, turned against their Father by his once-trusted lieutenant. Sinners had been struck down, but not before the faithful had fallen to their swords.

There is no mourning, either. But there is remembrance, for those who choose it, and Castiel seeks it here.

He recalls the battle, the blades and the blood and the break of a brother under a sister’s strike. He recalls the fall of Jophiel’s sword as his grace flared away, and the cry Rachel made when Sachael’s light burned out. He recalls wings he flew alongside, and lights he saw in passing, and names he will never know as anything more.

Most of all, Castiel recalls the time when he looked out at his brothers and sisters and naïvely believed that his Father’s plan would bring them only happiness.

He has not returned here since that day; the Garden was too open, too unguarded, too close to the heart of the conflict. This is a place for peacetime. But now that the fighting has ended, its tranquillity seems to Castiel a fitting setting for remembrance

From the company, it appears his siblings disagree. Or perhaps they prefer not to remember. Many, he knows, seek to explore the new heavens emerging, the respite of God’s chosen. To them, the new territory offers hope – but if such afterlives exist for angels, then they have not been discovered yet.

And others... others still have work to do.

“Anael.”

He senses her approach, and pause a respectful distance away. There was a time when they knew every part of each other and met with a touch – before Castiel learned of the fear of hidden blades, and of memories which should not be shared. Now, she waits.

It is a long time since they last met. Anael has seen more fighting than him, and suffered greater. Gabriel’s loss came early in the war, and his exact fate is still unknown. He has seen brothers and sisters break for less, seen them flickering and shadowed.

He turns, and Anael’s light is fierce and strong. The darkness has made her burn brighter.

“Castiel.” Her tone is warm. “Am I interrupting something?”

“I was remembering.”

“Important work.” She’s teasing, but there is an edge of sincerity to it. Memories are not treasured as they once were, although in many ways they are more precious.

“But not urgent.” There was much time left for contemplation, although it seemed shorter than it once had. “You were to receive orders.”

This had, perhaps, been influential in his choice to visit the Garden.

“So you heard,” Anael says without surprise. “I have spoken with Michael.”

Castiel waits for the news, but Anael seems hesitant.

“I am to command the Earth garrison.”

It’s an honour, for one so young. But, at the same time, it’s a pittance compared to what she could have gained at Gabriel’s right hand.

Most of all, though, it’s a suggestion. Gabriel’s death was never confirmed. If he survives somehow, it is likely to be on Earth. The garrison permits Anael the opportunity to seek him there, and offers some small hope of his return.

“When do you depart?”

Although he knows that the posting is fortunate for his sister, he is saddened to know she must leave. Garrison positions could last for millennia away from Heaven. He had hoped that the return of peace would grant them the chance to grow close once more.

“Soon.” But it is not to be so. “I’m permitted to choose a contingent to accompany me. Including a deputy.”

She seems expectant, but Castiel does not know why. He is hardly qualified to suggest suitable possibilities – he has never held a position of command. Yet Anael seems to wait for a response.

“Was there someone you had in mind?”

Unexpectedly, she laughs, bright and ringing, like she had when they were young.

“I’ve already chosen.” The words are traced with warmth. “Castiel. Will you follow me?”

It is a choice she once asked him often, long ago when he was someone new. But though the question now weighs heavy, he finds that his answer has not changed.

“Always.”

 

Nowhere in Creation was truly similar to the Garden, but some points were reminiscent of it, holding a lingering echo of that first bloom of eternity. In the day, this place is thronged with visitors, but now the glassy dome is moonlit and deserted, with no sound but the quiet whirring of mechanically maintained life.

Castiel has returned here sometimes, where once he would have visited the Garden. But he cannot return to Heaven now, not unless he is ordered back. Only Anael has visited on occasion, to give her reports.

Except now, that task will be his.

He has come here to adjust to that new knowledge, and above all to try and understand the need for it.

He wishes he could have questioned Anael on her reasons. He wishes he could have spoken to her, one last time – to bid her goodbye, if nothing else. He wishes he had not learned of her Fall under the watchful eyes of unfamiliar siblings, telling the entire garrison that Anael had been found disobedient, that she had ripped out her grace rather than face her rightful punishment, that Castiel was now their leader.

Yet he is thankful that it did not fall to him to chase his sister down.

He does not know what reason she felt she had for this act, or what order she believed this consequence preferable to following. He will never be completely certain.

He wonders if this was about Gabriel. Anael had never given up on the archangel. She had never stopped waiting for him to return to her. What might she have done, had she discovered proof of his demise?

Or, perhaps, if she had simply lost faith.

Somehow, it did not sound like the Anael he knew. But then, the sister he had once known was a loyal servant and a righteous warrior, just as he had always tried to be. The sister he had just lost could not be reconciled to her.

Castiel was no longer certain she had ever been what he believed of her.

Her Fall was a mystery he had no hope of solving. There were too many possible explanations, and no chance to ask the truth – not now, nor ever again.

Yet he still found himself trying to understand.

“Were you planning on moping for long?”

He turns to see the garden brightened, as if by the sunrise which is still several hours away. A light the colour of melted honey approaches through the leaves.

“Balthazar.” Castiel did not expect the company, but he does not reject it either. “I was ordered to seek revelation.”

“And that means you have to come slum it on the surface?” Balthazar chuckles. “Did you really have to pick somewhere so... _artificial_?”

“The effort invested in this cultivation is impressive,” Castiel notes.

“Aping the rainforest. Call me old fashioned, but I think I prefer the original.” Nevertheless, Balthazar’s attention shifts to their surroundings, as though searching for the meaning which is so obvious before Castiel’s gaze.

“Not that it matters, now that I’ve found you,” he adds a few moments later. “Any particular reason you ran out on us?”

“I needed to consider recent events,” Castiel explains. “Anael was not who I thought she was.”

“Or she changed,” Balthazar suggests. “Nothing lasts forever, you know. I mean, imagine how bored we’d be if it did!”

Castiel considers his brother’s words. He has witnessed many things change beyond recognition in the course of his existence. He simply had not considered that Anael would be one of them.

Balthazar moves closer. “You and Anael might have been close, but she’s far from the only one to care about you.”

Carefully, Balthazar allows his light to brush against Castiel’s. The heat is unexpected, and unfamiliar. Although it was once commonplace, Castiel cannot easily remember the last time a sibling permitted him such simple closeness.

“You trust me,” he says, not sure if he means it as a question or a statement.

“Of course I do, Cassie.” A pause. “You’re going to be a brilliant leader, you know.”

Balthazar withdraws, breaking contact, and Castiel resists the urge to move towards him for another touch.

He does not wish to overstep.

“Now,” Balthazar continues. “Were you planning on returning in the near future? Only, when I left, Uriel was threatening to start taking potshots at passing blasphemers...”

At the reminder of the brothers and sisters waiting for his return, Castiel radiates a sudden contentment – but he has yet to receive the revelation he came here for. He should not returned without it.

“Soon.”

 

“Ah, well,” Balthazar says, reluctantly. “I suppose that will have to do for now.”

He shoots upwards in a streak of radiance, and Castiel finally turns his mind to Heaven.

“Castiel. The new garrison leader.” Zachariah’s voice is cool and steel-grey in his mind. “Yes, there was one thing.”

Castiel receives revelation: a name. Images of a boy, and the man he will one day become. And the instruction: _he_ _is_ _important_. _Watch_ _him_.

Castiel accepts the order, feeling no need to delegate the task. He has watched humanity’s development for thousands of years.

Now, he will observe Dean Winchester.


End file.
